The Forbidden Throb Chapter 100

Emma's POV:

Morning sunlight filtered through the maple leaves, casting dappled shadows across the brick pathway to Mugar Library.

I adjusted my laptop bag on my shoulder, my phone vibrating persistently in my pocket.

Again. Daniel.

I couldn't help pulling it out, the screen lighting up with a string of new messages:

**Daniel:** *Did you sleep well last night?*

**Daniel:** *What's your class schedule today?*

**Daniel:** *Remember to eat lunch on time.*

The corner of my mouth lifted involuntarily. This was the sixth time this morning I'd caught myself smiling like an idiot at his messages.

I quickly pressed my fingers against my lips, glancing around to make sure no one noticed.

*It felt like accidentally opening a jar of endless sunshine.*

I typed back while walking: "Receive, Dr. Prescott."

Send.

"Whoa!"

A hand grabbed my arm, yanking me back at the last second. I'd nearly collided face-first with one of the campus's new Amazon pickup lockers, the orange metal box looming less than three inches from my nose.

"Where's your head?" Olivia's voice came from beside me, tinged with amusement. "Or should I ask—whose texts are you reading?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. "Just... just daily contact."

"Daily contact?" Olivia rolled her eyes, tugging me toward the library entrance. "Daily contact doesn't make people smile like *that*."

She stopped, turning to face me squarely. "You're completely gone. Totally, utterly smitten."

In the library's glass door, I caught my reflection: mouth curved upward, eyes soft with unmistakable warmth. That girl looked... happy.

*Olivia is right.*

---

The third-floor study area was bright and quiet.

I settled at a window-side table, opening my MacBook to reveal dense project documents filling the screen.

*International Medical Innovation Forum in Paris.*

My student visa was approved last week.

I needed to prepare a seven-minute presentation and master the forum's protocols. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to focus.

I opened our project group chat—"Paris Forum Squad"—and uploaded the latest outline draft.

Messages started popping up within seconds.

**Sarah Martinez:** *Great outline! But first—show us your cardiac surgeon husband's photo already!*

My fingers froze over the keyboard.

**Sarah:** *Professor Laurent still talks about your husband's voice. She said it's 'like listening to a Stradivarius cello—rich, warm, impossibly elegant.' Her exact words!*

I remembered that moment—Professor Laurent looking up from her desk when she'd overheard my phone call with Daniel, surprise flickering across her face, followed by appreciation.

**Sarah:** *Just one photo! Eyes only, immediate deletion, totally safe. We're dying of curiosity here!*

I bit my lower lip, thumb hovering over my phone

While I hesitated, a tall shadow fell across my laptop screen, blocking the light.

I looked up. A man stood beside my table—about six-foot-one, with a clean-cut, scholarly appearance.

I stared at his face for a few seconds, mentally shuffling through memories before speaking hesitantly: "Are you... Blake Morrison?"

He blinked, clearly surprised I remembered his full name. A flush of excitement colored his cheeks. "Yeah. It's me."

No wonder I'd hesitated. He looked drastically different from the last time I'd seen him—so much so that even I, someone who'd always prided herself on remembering names and faces, had nearly failed to place him.

Freshman fall, Olivia had dragged me to join the rock climbing club, promising it would be good exercise.

Activities were done in pairs. I'd shown up fifteen minutes late to the first session and found Blake below the climbing wall, too heavy to climb, helping belay other students.

Without thinking twice, I walked over and asked him to be my partner.

We'd exchanged contact info but never really talked beyond those first couple of club meetings.

My memories of him were vague—a large build, painfully shy, barely making eye contact.

After junior year started, I'd stopped attending club activities. I hadn't seen him since.

Now he'd transformed completely. Besides the basic bone structure of his features, he was practically unrecognizable.

Spread across my table were sheets of A4 paper—notes I'd compiled after asking Daniel about cardiac surgery basics. Next to my water bottle sat a small stack of printed slides for the Paris forum, today's priority task.

Blake's eyes swept over the materials, and he leaned in slightly. "Why are you looking at medical materials? Aren't you in the College of Communication?"

My smile froze.

My expression shifted to guarded. "How do you know my major?"

"Oh—no, no, please don't misunderstand. I haven't been stalking you or anything," Blake waved his hands frantically, eyes dropping to gauge my reaction. "I saw your photo on BU Confessions once. Someone mentioned it in the comments."

"I see." I nodded slowly.

The reading room was silent, everyone absorbed in their work. I didn't want to disturb others—especially for small talk with someone I barely knew.

I pulled my printed materials closer and clicked my pen, ready to politely dismiss him.

Before I could speak, he tried again: "Are you working on a project with medical?"

I kept it short. "Yes."

Blake's face brightened. "That's perfect! I'm actually in the clinical medicine program. My research focus is cardiac surgery. If you need help with anything, just ask."

I offered a polite smile.

"Seriously, don't hesitate. Ask me anything. If I don't know, I can ask my advisor—he's brilliant."

The girl at the next table shot us several annoyed glances. My polite smile was barely holding.

Blake—the quiet, shy boy I remembered—had apparently converted all his lost weight into extra words. He'd transformed from silent and reserved to unstoppably chatty.

If this continued, either Blake or both of us would be glared out of the library.

I pulled my earbuds from my bag, forcing an apologetic tone.

"Sorry, I have an online meeting in a few minutes. Maybe we can... catch up another time?"